


christmas cheer

by brainyisalwayssexy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Fluff, Mistletoe, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainyisalwayssexy/pseuds/brainyisalwayssexy
Summary: In which Tonks moons over her crush from a distance, Remus plays the piano, and some quick conversation is had. Christmas 1995. Fluffy, fluffy, fluffy. Oneshot.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 18
Kudos: 46





	christmas cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun little scenario that came up in my head. A VERY late Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! :D
> 
> ALSO -- the outfit Remus is wearing is shamelessly stolen from the very lovely elizabeshi's [artwork of him](https://elizabeshi.tumblr.com/post/638419815537770496/three-lupin-designs-the-middle-one-is-how-i) from a few weeks ago. (see outfit on the far left!)
> 
> OK, that's it. Enjoy!

Remus has looked simply _gorgeous_ all night long, and it’s taken all of Tonks’ self control to not spend the last few hours ogling him. 

He’s wearing a green suit -- a Christmas gift from Sirius, as it were -- which no living human should be able to pull off successfully, but he _does_ , somehow. To make matters worse, he’s decided to play piano. Which is not to say he isn’t good -- he’s _brilliant_ , actually -- but the sight of his long, elegant fingers moving skillfully across the keys has been doing things to her stomach that it _really_ shouldn’t.

Ugh. So much for a secret Order crush. With the number of drinks she’s had and the blush spreading across her cheeks, she’s sure that she’s got as much subtlety as an elephant, right now. To say nothing of her hair, which has been cycling through a number of different colors, seemingly of its own accord.

Then again, as long as _he_ doesn’t know, it’s harmless. Everyone else be arsed.

Tonks ambles over to him as casually as she can, now that the party’s cleared out and it’s just the two of them left on the floor.

He sees her coming and grins. Shifts so she can sit down beside him on the piano stool, though he keeps playing without missing a beat.

She sits down beside him. Tries not to think about the sliver of bare skin where her leg is up against his, because for fuck’s sake, she can _definitely_ hold it together. _Right?_

She forces her thoughts elsewhere.

“You play piano beautifully, Remus, you know that?”

He smiles, and she’s struck, as she always is, by just how handsome he looks when he does.

“You flatter me endlessly, Dora. But thank you.”

She rolls her eyes. Nudges him playfully for the self-deprecation, though she knows it's a habit for him.

“Is there _anything_ you’re rubbish at? Because I really don’t think there is.”

Remus laughs.

“ _Several_ things, actually. But again, you’re very kind.”

A thought strikes her, then -- 

“Who taught you to play? If, of course, you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all.” he murmurs, eyes flashing down to the keys for the briefest of moments. “It was my mother, Hope.”

He’s _never_ mentioned his mother before, except in passing. She feels honored that he’s told her this little bit about her. About his childhood, really, as it were.

“That’s lovely,” she whispers, and she means it.

“It reminds me of her. It’s a way to keep her close, this time of year.”

Remus’ thoughtful look is replaced with something a bit more humorous, then. 

“Though she _did_ often tell me I ought to focus less on learning other peoples’ songs, and try to compose a few of my own.”

Tonks grins. “And did you, then? I could have sworn I overheard you play something, one night I was here…”

“Really, what was the tune? Maybe I can remember.”

She closes her eyes and hums the song. She’d been struck as soon as she’d heard it -- though not one for classical music in general and piano even less so, the tune had captured her attention immediately. It started happy, then transformed into something somber, _melancholy_ , almost. But she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head for a week after that.

When she opens her eyes once more, she sees a flicker of _something_ travel across his face.

“Yes.” he murmurs. “I _do_ know that song.”

He starts playing, and _Merlin_ , there it is again. That mystery melody that had held her attention for so long. One she’s not sure she was _ever_ meant to hear, quite honestly.

Tonks watches his hands as the song unfolds beneath them. Listens intently as the song crystallizes into something sad, delicate, inexplicable. 

And for just a moment she’s not in Grimmauld Place, sitting next to a man with a kind face and beautiful hands. 

She’s somewhere _beyond_ magic, beyond time.

At last, it comes to a soft end. Then there’s just _one_ word she can say, that can _fully_ encapsulate her awe -- 

“ _Beautiful_.” she whispers.

“It is,” he agrees, and that’s when she notices he’s not looking at the piano keys, or somewhere else in the room.

No, he’s gazing at _her_ , with far more tenderness than she knows what to do with. And she suddenly can’t pull her eyes away from him, either.

She can feel her throat constricting, from fear or anticipation or both.

_(What now?)_

Because there it is, again.

This _something_ , stretched out between them.

She wasn’t _sure_ , before. If this was anything more than a one-sided, girlish crush.

She knows now, looking back at him, that it _certainly_ isn’t.

A bit of magical snow falls on her face and shoulders. Pulls her out of her reverie.

She looks up, and realizes exactly _what_ it is -- 

“Mistletoe.”

One of Fred and George’s latest inventions, one that she’d spent a _great_ deal of the party evading, floating above their heads, now. Of _course_.

She laughs, ready to make a joke, to try and ease the tension. When she turns, though, she sees that Remus’ face is darker, _unreadable_ , suddenly. 

“Tonks…” he whispers. “ _This_ is one of the things that I’m rubbish at.”

She blinks.

“What do you mean?”

“I … I don’t know what to _do_.”

And she _sees_ the confusion apparent on his face. Wonders, suddenly, if she hasn’t made her heart quite so easy for him to read.

In hindsight, she doesn’t know where the confidence comes from -- the liquid courage she’s had generous helpings of all night, or the fact that she’s _seen_ the way he looks at her and she simply can’t take waiting anymore.

“I can fix that,” she murmurs, and then she leans over and kisses him. Not a kiss -- a peck, really. Something soft and slow, her lips brushing cautiously over his.

He stills beneath her. Doesn’t react or respond, at _all_. 

Oh, _Merlin_. Tonks is disappointed, to say least. Can’t help the sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. She’d read this all wrong, hadn’t she?

She’s starting to pull away, to try and spare them both some mortification when she feels a calloused hand gently press against her cheek, pull her back in.

And then he’s kissing her, _properly_ this time. She doesn’t even have time to register the specifics, really, just that she’s covered in butterflies and _wow_ he’s good at this, how on _earth_ is he so good at this? 

~~What _else_ has he been hiding from her? ~~

They part, eventually. She’s sure that her hair and her face match colors now, but can’t find it in her to care, suddenly. Because it’s _him_ she’s focused on. On how fucking _gorgeous_ he looks, his eyes still half-lidded with desire, not to mention the _teensiest_ bit of her shimmery gloss on his lips.

She breaks into a grin. 

“ _That was_ \--”

“Late,” he rasps. “Very, _very_ late.” 

“It was, actually. You should be _very_ sorry, Remus.”

He laughs at her jibes, moves _ever so slightly_ closer. 

Her heart flutters in its chest. She thinks she might explode from happiness, truly.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he whispers, and God, has she got _ideas_. So, so _many_ ideas.

Tonks shifts over, then. Settles herself onto his lap, an easy, teasing smile on her lips. 

“You should _probably_ start by kissing me again.” 

His arm wraps around her waist, holds her steady against him.

“ _Gladly_ ,” he murmurs, and then he’s tugging her close, his mouth on hers once more, and she can’t help but think that this _just_ might be her best Christmas yet.

* * *

(He tells her, much, _much_ later, that the song was written for her.)

( _Only_ for her.)

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you liked! Hope this brought some warm fuzzies as it did for me :)


End file.
